


There is a fine line between being weird and being absolutely fucked up and this crosses into the absolutely fucked up territory

by AtmaphAsrchi



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: I'm a horrible fuckin' person, M/M, PWP, and im gonna try to console myself and say, but still using the archival warnings to be safe wouldn't want to trigger anyone, dubcon, itS SO WRONG ON SO MANY LEVELS, who loves psycho raleigh too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtmaphAsrchi/pseuds/AtmaphAsrchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>what it says on the tin</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is a fine line between being weird and being absolutely fucked up and this crosses into the absolutely fucked up territory

**Author's Note:**

> self indulgent fucked up piece please don't stone me

Ressler wakes up to the smell of syrup and waffles invading his nostrils and replacing the former smell of the chemicals that had knocked him out. He's tied down on a chair, strong knots-army and fishermen knots- he realizes, and then one type he doesn't recognize. He wants to wipe the sleep from his eyes, but his hands are so firmly tied he doesn't think he could budge a centimeter if he wanted to.

There's a blonde man standing over at the stove, and a sizzling sound coming from the stove. 'That must be where the breakfast smell is coming from,' Ressler thinks dumbly, still waking up. He's never really been good at mornings, even with his fucked FBI schedule. The man is humming a strange tune he doesn't recognize,  and reaches over to grab the syrup and drizzle it over a small stack of waffles. He takes his time examining his kidnapper, noticing how he moves, favoring his left side but using his right hand as the dominant one. Interesting.

The blond turns around, plate in hand, and his eyes widen just a little bit, a small smile creeping onto his face. "Mornin' Yance," the man says cheerfully,  walking over to the small kitchen table where he's seated. This confuses Ressler. Who's "Yance," and why is he getting called that? He doesn't say anything, instead favoring to observe and let his kidnapper do the talking. "I made waffles! You favorite, I remember. Even got my hands on that butter you like," The man says, starting to cut up the waffle with the side of the fork.

Ressler watches him cut up the food, growing more and more confused. "You know, it wasn't nice to fake like that for so long. I don't like it when you go away for a long time," Blondie says, looking down and pouting just a little. "A-anyway, since you can't-" he gestures to the knots tied around yancy's hands and arms, "I'll just feed you like I used to do when you were sick. Remember that?" He huffs a laugh and smiles mutely, stabbing a piece of waffle onto the prongs of the fork. "I'm sorry I have to tie you up, but whenever I find you, you keep running away if I don't!"

'Okay,' Ressler thinks to himself, brows furrowing slightly, 'I know I've never seen this lunatic, and if I had I'm pretty sure I'd remember /this/.' He's shaken from his brief deducting by his lips being poked at. Psycho rolls his eyes and pulls at Ressler's chin when he just purses his lips further. "Aww c'mon Yance, I know you like being the big manly man but let me feed you," he prods further. "Yaaaanccyyyy," He whines. Ressler relents, not wanting to deal with a whining man-child on his hands, no matter how tied they were. He opens his mouth and bites down on the piece of food grudgingly, chewing quickly and swallowing at the same speed. He resists the urge to glare at Crazy, who is now sitting in a chair opposite of him. Kid's unpredictable.

He eats the damn breakfast piece by piece, and thankfully maintains his calm the whole time. Being sleepy can pacify him sometimes. When the waffle is finally fucking finished, the blonde gets up and goes to the sink, rinses the plate and fork, and scampers back over to him. Ressler and the Kid have a staring contest for the better part of about five minutes, until he cracks and looks around the room. It's a standard kitchen, but it's smaller than it would be in a house. 'Apartment, probably,' Ressler thinks, attempting to turn his head to look over his shoulder better, nearly cursing when his shoulder is pulled harshly by the intricate weave of knots. The blond looks amused. Ressler decides to bite the bullet. "So," He ventures cautiously, "Who are you?"

"Don't give me that, Yance," Blondie says, but his face falls slightly when Ressler's expression doesn't change. 'Annoyance,' Ressler picks up on it quickly. Psycho Kidnapper finally relents and begins tiredly, like he'd given the whole speech a million times before. "I'm Raleigh," he begins, scooting forward slightly in his chair, "I'm your little brother, Yance." Well, shit. Ressler is an only kid. This doesn't make any sense. "What?" He starts, "My name isn't Yancy-first off-it's Don," He doesn't want to give his complete name to this crazy, "and I'm an only kid. I don't have a little brother." Blondie-Raleigh-makes a frustrated noise and tromps over to the sink, opening a small cabinet under it. He pulls something out quickly and stalks back over, sinking down in the chair and raising his hand, holding up the item he retrieved from the drawer. It's an m9. Fuck.

"You," Raleigh begins, waving the gun at him, "are Yancy. Becket. My older brother."  Ressler swallows thickly. Blondie points the gun to himself briefly. "I," He says, pulling the gun away from himself and pointing it back at Ressler, "am Raleigh Becket. Your younger brother." He flicks of the safety and narrows his eyes slightly at Ressler. Ball's in his court now. Kind of. "Right," he begins tentatively, "I'm Yancy. You're Raleigh."

Raleigh relaxes slightly, smile infecting his face again. "Good." His smile goes more to genuine and...affectionate. "I missed you so much, Yance," He says, setting the gun down on the table. He didn't turn on the safety, but it's still less of a danger now. He tears his eyes from the guy on the table and looks back at Raleigh. Raleigh stares back at him expectantly, fingers tapping a rhythm on the table. "I-I missed you too," he begins, heart beating hard in his chest, "Missed you a lot kid. Sorry I went away." Raleigh's eyes are sparkling with glee, and Ressler calms minutely. Seems like he said the right thing.

"Please," Psycho Blondie begins, sounding choked up, and if he actually starts crying Ressler thinks he might be as good as dead, "Don't ever leave again. I was so lonely."  Ressler takes a quick breath. "Don't worry, Raleigh," he says, "I'm not going anywhere." The kid clamps his hands together and holds them in front of his mouth, eyes watering. Goddamnit. "Promise?" Raleigh asks, voice coming out shaky. "Yeah," He begins softly, "Yeah, I promise."

At those last words, the kid surges forward, and Ressler's eyes go wide, leaning as far back as he can. He doesn't receive the blow he's anticipating, though, and is instead met with a hand at the back of his neck, and soft lips on his own. "What-," he begins, but decides to stop as soon as he starts. Didn't this kid say that they were _brothers_?! "Raleigh," he begins, breathless and panicky, "What are you doing?" The kid's expression goes bashful, and he removes his hand from Ressler's neck. Thank god for that. "I-it's just that I haven't seen you in so long, and you said that whenever we're alone that I can do that, a-and..." Ressler grits his teeth. This is so fucked up.

Ressler doesn't make any attempt to talk, not sure what to make of the situation. It's wrong, it goes against how he was raised, but if he doesn't want to get killed...well, he's sure there's been people who have done worse. He takes a deep breath and steels himself for what he's about to do. "Yeah, sorry Raleigh," he says, betrayed by his, now shaking, voice, "I guess I forgot, a-and it was really sudden, so..." He forces a smile at the vulnerable blonde in the seat across from him. Raleigh relaxes, and ditches the shy act for his chipper disposition. "It's okay Yance," he says, leaning back slightly, "I get it, it's okay. Also, what's with you using my full name so much? Whatever happened to 'goddamnit, Rals?" The kid teases. Well, that was a bit less-than-subtle if he says so himself. He fakes a fond smile, and leans back. These knots, he realizes, aren't meant for discomfort or intimidation, they're just made for restraining. This is some skill the kid's got.

Ressler was pulled up and thrown over Raleigh's shoulder, and he nearly started to yell and thrash. He kept his head, but just barely. He was carried by the-probably-younger man into a living room. The room was dark and lit up by lamps, blackout curtains covering the windows. Ressler was placed on to couch, sitting in an upright position, hands still tied up uselessly in his lap and arms without much slack either. He tried his legs to see if the knots around them had come loose even the slightest bit. No dice. He leaned back against the couch, resigned, and observed his surroundings. The couch was pushed up against the far wall of the room, TV on the wall across from them. there was a loveseat against the wall to Ressler's right, near the door that led out of the kitchen. Raleigh grabbed a remote and pressed a button to turn the television on. Blondie flipped through channels, and settled on an inaccurate crime show about some ruthless criminal who turned himself in. Ressler didn't pay much attention to it, but instead observed his "little brother". The same "little brother" whose hands were a little too high up on his thigh for his liking.

Ressler casts a wary glance in Raleigh’s direction. Raleigh doesn’t seem to be paying attention, though, his gaze is fixated on the TV, biting his lip and readjusting himself every now and then. Ressler shifts quietly to see what is making Raleigh so fidgety, looks him over, and- ‘Oh you have _got_ to be fucking kidding me.’ Blondie is sporting a little half-chub. Ressler’s baffled, but he tries not to let the expression show. He keeps in mind that this cute little-cute? Where the fuck did that come from? Nevermind. _He keeps in mind_ that this _little psychotic fuck_ is so messed up in the head that he makes Reddington look like an angel. Sort of. At least Reddington has some measure of finesse. This is some kid barely out of his teenage years getting hard over-what? He looks around a little, turns his attention to the television, and sure enough, there’s some poor shmuck getting tortured within an inch of his life.

Raleigh pulls his hand away from Ressler’s thigh, seemingly forgetting he was ever there, and palms himself through his pants lightly. Ressler’s eye go wide and his voice catches in his throat. He’d like to protest about what Blondie’s doing at the moment _(can’t you go to the bathroom or something, kid?!)_ but he’s so stunned by what’s fucking happening that he can only watch on in abject horror.  Raleigh unzips his jeans and pulls himself out of his boxers, making Ressler flush and look away. ‘What the actual fuck,’ He thinks, trying to block out the small noises Raleigh is making _right fucking next to him_. There’s a loud gunshot and a scream from the television’s speakers, and Blondie lets out a high pitched whine. “Jesus, kid, seriously?” He says, flabbergasted. Shit. He didn’t meant to say anything. He dares risking a look at the kid, whose head is resting against the back of the couch, one eye open and looking at him, biting down on his lip, face flushed, pumping himself slowly and squeezing like he’d been caught off guard every time there’s a loud noise from the TV...goddamnit Ressler get ahold of yourself. He can’t help himself, though, and he swallows hard, lips parting involuntarily.

The kid’s mind seems to catch up with him eventually, and he sits up urgently. Ressler’s praying to every deity he knows that Raleigh is going to run off to the bathroom and finish jerking it in there, not _half a foot_ away from him. Instead, a shy smile spreads across his flushed cheeks, and it makes him look utterly debauched, if he wasn’t already. “Sorry, Yance,” Raleigh begins, voice rough, “I’m being really rude. You can’t get yourself off, can you?” Ressler’s not going to say whether or not his dick jumped at that. Even a little bit. He watched helplessly as Raleigh slid from the couch to the floor, gazing up at him with his baby blues. Raleigh made a move to slip between Ressler’s legs, but was stopped by the ropes binding them together. Suddenly Ressler’s very glad that his legs are tied. This doesn’t stop the little psycho, though. Said little psycho huffs and stands up quickly, tucking himself back into his pants a little. There’s rummaging noises coming from the hall, and then a door shutting hastily. Raleigh skitters into the room with his arms full of some weird-ass contraption and some shackles-oh fuck no.

Little psycho wastes no time in placing the contraption on the ground, crawling around the floor on his hands and knees to get the thing secured to the ground. He grabs one of the shackles that was connected to the little eye hook and pushes up the leg of Ressler’s pants, clamping the heavy-ass thing onto his ankle. He does the same with Ressler’s other leg, taking a moment to admire his handiwork. He scrambles forward on his hands and knees again, reaching up somewhere around Ressler’s hip and pulls at a segment of rope. The whole netting falls limp, and Blondie tears it from Ressler’s legs, pulling himself back out of his boxers. He’s wilted a little bit, no doubt, but Ressler doesn’t doubt the kid’s ability to get turned on from just about anything. A few harsh pumps and keening whines later, the kid is back up in full force, weeping at the slit. Ressler’s hands are still bound, so there’s nothing he can do to escape this, especially not with these fucking _shackles_ around his ankles. The things weigh a ton.

Raleigh goes for the zipper of Don’s pants as soon as he settles in between his spread and shackled legs. Raleigh pulls him out of his boxers a bit roughly, making a strangled noise escape him. Apparently unsatisfied with the current situation, Raleigh grabs Don’s pants and underwear and yanks them down so they rest just above his knees. “What-” Don begins, swallowing a lump in his throat and feeling ashamed at how arousing this actually is, “Raleigh-Rals, what are you doing?” Maybe he can get out of this if he tries hard enough. The blond looks up at him through his eyelashes, pupils blown wide. “I thought I’d suck you off, bro,” Ressler nearly chokes, “Since you can’t jerk off like usual.” _Shit._ He can feel the blood flooding his cheeks. “Wanna make you feel good , Yance,” Raleigh says quietly, leaning forward against the couch, wrapping his hands around Ressler’s length. He hisses out a breath, squirming in the grip around his cock.

Blondie smiles and leans forward to lick and suck at the head of his dick obscenely, eyes half lidded. The kid trails kisses and licks down his shaft, leaning forward just a bit more, and starts placing little kitten-licks on his balls. Ressler groans at the sensation, pulling at the bindings around his legs, toes curling. “Y’like that, Yance?” Raleigh teases, cupping his balls with one hand, resting the side of his head on Don’s thigh. A few gunshots ring out from the television and Raleigh turns slightly to look at it, moaning under his breath when someone starts to bleed. “I can’t believe you’re getting hard over _that_ ,” Ressler says without thinking first, “It’s not even _accurate_.” Raleigh whips his head back to him, eyes wide and biting his lip to hide a smile-and failing. There’s excitement in his eyes.

A noise tumbles out of him that Ressler might be able to mistake for laughter if it wasn’t such a feral sound. “Always are so technical, aren’t ya Yance?” Blondie teases, hand sliding back to the base of his cock. He jerks it roughly with a flick of his wrist on the upstroke, making Don’s head fall back against the couch and bite his lip hard. There’s a growl sounding from the back of the kid’s throat, which quickly melts itself into a whimper, and Raleigh tugs on a particular rope that is stretching around his torso, and he finds his head flung back into his previous position. They exchange a gaze and Raleigh whines.

The kid sucks him down quickly, and Don chokes on a moan, unable to move his head any substantial amount. Raleigh is no longer making any effort to go slow, instead hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard, fondling his balls almost too roughly. Unable to move any other way, he buries his fingers in Raleigh’s hair and _yanks_ , hating himself for the wave of arousal that racks through his body when the kid moans around his cock. He presses down on that sweet spot just behind Ressler’s balls and he’s cumming like a shot, flooding Blondie’s mouth.

He’s kind of impressed when he sees the kid swallow all of it down, licking his lips afterwards, but Ressler’s shaking a little too hard at the moment to care that much. Then Raleigh reaches down, pushing his pants to his thighs and not worrying about his underwear, pulling himself of out his boxers and pumping quickly. One eye is shut, the other one staring at him desperately, lips parted in that unconscious way people get when they’re like this. There are little whimpers and whines spilling out of his mouth, and he seems like he’s trying to get something out but just can’t quite do it. He comes all over himself eventually, tears pricking at his eyes, lap and hand and stomach covered in cum.

Don’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his dick twitch.


End file.
